Snitched
by sanieSaiyan
Summary: Harry is at the Dursleys, stuck in his cupboard. Darco is stuck fixing up his fathers affairs in the Muggle World, for his father was no longer able. One of those Said affairs was with a certain family in Surrey...hmmmAU after OoTP. rating has gone up
1. Cupboards suck

AN/ Hi this is the first HP fanfic I've ever tried to write and its only a teaser so far, so please tell me if I should continue. Umm if it does continue I just want you to know that it WILL BE SLASH…..just so you know. It'll be HP/DM a'corse and Oh Harry potter is sooo not mine Any way Read and Review!

Sanie

The hustle of London was loud and stifling, people bumbled along the sidewalks, each determined to reach their destination before anyone else. Yet none able to reach anything above a slow shuffle. One such person caught in this shuffle, dressed immaculately and with a look of disdain etched into his aristocratic face, was a silver haired young man.

Muttering softly to himself and feeling absolutely filthy whenever one of the people in the crowed happened to touch him, he slowly pushed his way through the crowd, just as determined to reach his destination before any of these damn muggles did.

Harry Potter was bored, cold, hungry and in pain all at the same time. He was bored because he was yet again locked in the damn cupboard under the stairs _yet _again, he didn't know why, exactly, he had been locked in to the cupboard under the stairs but he suspected it was because of that important business dinner Dudley had been complaining about earlier that day. He was cold because outside was roughly 40c and Aunt Petunia had the air-con up on full. It was like an igloo inside the cupboard because the air-conditioning unit was right next-door, he was hungry because he hadn't been allowed food for the past two day and he was in pain because yet again the two male Dursleys' had found it amusing to use Harry as a Punch bag.

Yep it was official! Harry Potter's life sucked! At this point even Malfoy would be a welcomed reprieve in the monotony his life had become.

Harry sighed and gnawed on one of his very abused fingers, the cupboard that had once pass for Harry's bedroom was very cramped and very full of random junk that the Dursley's hadn't been able to find a home for. Harry couldn't help but marvel that, not so long ago (around five years to be precise) he had been able to stretch out completely in the small space, he hardly imagine being that small, not that he was big by any stretch of the imagination. Still he had been bloody small in his youth.

Sighing once more, he rested his head against the wall, hoping that sleep would come fast and be merciful, but he knew that that was probably wishful thinking.

Draco stepped into the office building, looking some-what worse for wear, his pristine silvery blond hair was no longer slicked back, but falling beside his face in strands and his clothes were slightly rumpled, still he knew he looked damn good, if judging by the glanced many of the females that passed were anything to go by.

Biting back and irritated sigh, he tried to recall his mother's instructions.

"Now Draco, as your father is," Narssisa Malfoy had paused, her icy eyes darting around for any suspicious looking people, Draco couldn't understand why though, they had yet to leave the manor. _Honestly_. "Mother we're not being listened to." Draco interrupted before she could continue. Narssisa shook her head, "Walls have ears dear. Anyway, as I was saying," she glared at him, " now that your father is _You-know-where," _(Meaning Azkaban, thought Draco, with mild disgust) " I thought it appropriate that you take over his business ventures in the Muggle world and I'll see if we can't sort out our frozen account at Gringotts."

Draco looked at his mother in shock, "What do you mean '_Business ventures in the_ _Muggle world_' mother? Father would Never turn to…" The look on his mothers face was enough to tell Draco that _Yes; _his Father did indeed dabble in the Muggle World.

Draco sighed, there had been no point in asking why, he'd already known, his Father invested in the Muggle World for this exact reason, or at least something close to it, Insurance, that's what it was, the investments had been for in case his father hadn't been able to touch his Gringotts account.

Draco had listened to his mother explain that he would need attend a meeting at a Muggle bank in the centre of London and then he had to go to a business dinner at one of his lesser employees from a lesser company's, house on Tuesday night at exactly 7:30pm to discuss expansion or some such nonsense. He didn't want to go, and didn't really see why he should, except his father had planned it ages ago and his pride as a Malfoy wouldn't allow him to back out.

So here he was sitting in an uncomfortable chair, across from a very ugly muggle trying to explain why Malfor senior wasn't there and what had happened to him.

It was then he realised that he was terrible at apparating and beside that, he had no idea where Surrey even is!

"Sirius!" Harry awoke, his breath coming in small gasps, rivulets of sweat ran down his face, he could still see his Godfathers face as he fell through the Veil, Could still hear Bellatrix Lastrange's cackle, could still remember Cedric's soft plea to have his body returned to his father. These memories now twisted in to nightmares taunted Harry, he could no longer sleep more then three hours, four at the most without them coming to plague him not that he didn't deserve it, he did! He as good as killed Cedric and Sirus as if he had done it with his own hand! It was _all His Fault._

Harry moved to turn the light on, wincing in pain as he did; his ribs were definitely broken again, he only hoped that the Dursley's took him to a doctor before the holidays were out.

Pausing in his musings, Harry listened as the Dursley's opened the door with a sickly sweet greeting. There was a brief shuffle as the guest was ushered inside.

"Welcome, welcome," Vernon boomed, "welcome to our humble home."

"Indeed." Said a clearly young and very uninterested voice.

"Pardon me for saying," it was Petunia this time, "But aren't you a bit young to…" she left the rest of the sentence open, whether because of the very evil glare the young man was giving her or because her question was obvious, Harry will never know.

"I assure you madam that I, like my father, am quite competent in maters relating to business, especially _My _business." Stated the very coldly familiar voice.

"Of course," Vernon again, "Of course mister Malfoy, my wife wasn't trying to imply anything, only….um Admiring that fact that a young man such as…."

Harry tuned out then due to the fact that had he not been in the cupboard he would have been on the floor…What the Hell?

MALFOY? What was He doing in Harry Potter's home of all places.

Some days it's just better to not get up at all!

To be continued…

Tell what you think Please!


	2. Dinner with insight

Hello. I was inspired by the response I got so I tried to update quickly. But please don't expect it so fast next time. It should be a week between updates so I can give you longer chapters.

**Anyways, on with Chapter 2**

**DINNER**

Harry dared not to breathe, in truth he couldn't if he tried; honestly the shock was too great.

Malfoy, Malfoy was at the Dursleys', Draco Malfoy; Muggle Hater extraordinaire was at Dursleys' to have _Dinner_? No that couldn't possibly be right!

Harry nodded to himself. 'That's right' he thought, 'there is no way Draco Malfoy would _ever _enter the home of a Muggle, let alone…' Harry paused his internal ranting a moment, 'Unless, unless it was a _Plan, _yes a plan, that's what it must be! It must be a plan to kill him or something equally Death Eater-y.' Harry's eyes narrowed, that little ferret, obviously he was continuing his fathers 'Family Trade.'

Harry pushed away the pain in his body; he needed to prepare. Damned if he was going to let _Draco Malfoy_ kill him without a fight!

Draco looked at the house, like every other on the street, it was double story, brick and uncompromisingly ugly.

He glanced down to a piece of paper clenched in his fist and then back up to the house; there was no doubt, this was the place.

So with a small sigh he walked down the concrete driveway, to the front door, he put on his 'I'm superior to _Everything_' face and knocked on the heavy would front door.

The creature that answered the door, Draco was surprised to discover, was in fact a human. At first he had thought it some kind of troll. The man as was tall as he was wide, his pressed suit seemed to be bursting at the seams and he had more chins than Draco could count. His eyes were dark and beady and seemed to be swallowed up his face, all in all a truly unpleasant man. Looking up into those beady eyes, Draco could see a mean streak running a mile wide.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy I presume." the man said, as he moved to the side to let Draco in.

"Mister Dursley." Draco nodded cordially to the giant Troll, and to the people behind, who he assumed were the Trolls family; a tall thin woman with a long horse like face and a boy that looked like a carbon copy of the Troll.

Stepping inside, Draco was hit with a marvellously cool air coming from a vent in the ceiling, it was a very welcome relief form the thick and humid air outside, it seemed muggles were good for somethings.

"Welcome, Welcome," said the Troll moving to take Draco's jacket.

Draco handed it over to him barely listening to the greeting, mumbled a reply. It was then that, that horse faced woman spoke, insinuating that he was too young or some such crap. Before she could continue speaking such absolute rubbish, Draco levelled the Malfoy glare on her; cold defiance gleamed out of the icy glaciers that his eyes had become. The woman cautiously took a step back. The Troll hastily interrupted, trying to placate him as all good 'yes men' do.

Draco knew then. He hated these people!

Harry sat in the cupboard, a small screw driver in his hand, gently trying to pry open the cupboard lock. His tongue poking out of the side of his mouth, concentration pored out of his very being. Very slowly the latch on the other side of the door lifted and the cupboard door could be opened.

Carefully and in as much silence as possible, Harry gently opened the door. He then poked his head out, to check that the coast was clear.

Seeing that it was, Harry slid out of the cupboard, and then crawled up the stairs to Dudley's old second bedroom, it wasn't his and according to the Dursleys' it never will be, to retrieve his wand. Damned if he'd fight unarmed.

The room was small and littered with old toys, broken in one way or another, the only thing that belonged to Harry, was a trunk at the end of the small, dirty looking bed, with the letters 'HP' carved into the front and a large padlock holding the lid closed.

Harry swore softly, those Damn Dursleys' were trying to make sure that Harry wouldn't be doing any magic whatsoever, let alone Homework, these holidays. Stupid muggles.

Creeping over to the trunk, Harry grabbed hold of the lock and gave it a little rattle, maybe he could pick it.

Shaking his head at that ridiculous thought, Harry sighed and leaned against the trunk.

Harry glance to the bars on the window, almost expecting to see a large white owl gracing the window sill, but Harry knew she wouldn't. Hedwig was with Ron's family these Hols' due to the Dursleys' claims to 'get rid of' the bird if she dared to show up. Stupid, evil muggles!

Harry's eyes dropped from the window and back to his trunk, he was at a loss as to what to do. His wand and invisibility cloak were both in his trunk, and his trunk was very locked.

Barely managing the desire to rant and rave loudly, Harry clambered on to the bed, his breath coming in short pain filled gasps, he could no longer hold the pain back and with each of his short gasps the pain grew more intense.

Once on the bed, coldness seemed to seep into his bones and shook his body from the inside out. Teeth chattering, he gently wrapped himself up in the small woollen blanket that hadn't been washed in years. Harry closed his eyes and prayed once more for sleep to take him. Quite a few hours later sleep deserted him and Voldemort took him instead.

Draco didn't like muggles on a good day, but he truly loathed these particular muggles! They were rude, inconsiderate and ugly (that being their worst offence in Draco's opinion). The meeting was long and very boring, by the time Dursley had wrapped it up it was half past twelve and that damn Troll had actually given Draco something called Beer, a foul smelling alcoholic substance and Draco, though loath to admit it, had no stomach for alcohol.

Rising from his chair was harder then it seemed and staying on his feet was worse. The alcohol he'd consumed had made Draco's head swim and his body sway; he had to clutch the back of his chair to remain in an upright position. Once steady he threw a desperate glance to his jacket, hanging on a rack by the front door, or more to the point, his wand hidden in the jackets large pockets.

Draco sighed softly and turned to the troll, every inch of Draco hated muggles at that very minute and every inch hated the fact that he knew fifteen good sober-up spells and could use none of them in the presence of that damn Muggle.

Dursley ambled over to the coat rack and retrieved Draco's jacket, (Draco nearly had a heart attack when he thought of the muggle being anywhere near his wand) and brought it back, Draco thought it fitting, the man did remind him of a bulldog.

Taking his jacket from the troll, careful not to touch it in the same places, Draco turned to the man. "Mister Dursley," Draco swiftly threw the coat over his left arm and held out his right, "It's been a pleasure."

Vernon flushed at Draco's lie and gently shook the young man's hand. He had to admit, though Vernon did not prefer boys, this one was special; he had a beauty women would envy.

Truly the boy was stunning. He wasn't a big boy, he had a small lethe frame and seemed to be a bit taller then The Freak, so he was about 5"11 give or take. His hair was sleeked back, but over the course of the night a couple of stray strands broke free to frame his face, and what a face it was. Soft complexion with no visible blemishes, slim straight nose, high sharp cheeks that swept down to a slightly pointed chin, his skin was creamy white, even The Freak was darker then this young man. His hair was like silver blond silk, shiny and soft looking. But his most amazing feature were his eyes. They were blue, all shades of blue. One minute they were icy silver and the next cobalt blue and were absolutely stunning especially framed by such thick and lush eyelashes. Vernon has only ever seen one other pair of eyes that even resembled…No he would not think that Freak in any ways resembles this stunning boy.

Draco withdrew his hand and wiped it one his jacket, he'd be burning it when he got home, and turned toward the door.

"Will you be right to get home?" Dursley asked, his giant face resembled a tomato.

"Of course." Draco answered, but secretly he wasn't so sure.

Dursley moved in front of Draco and waddled to the front door, he was just about to open it when a scream echoed throughout the house, making Draco drop the briefcase he hadn't remembered picking up.

"That fucking Freak!" Dursley roared, the alcohol probably effecting his actions somewhat.

Moving faster then Draco would have guessed possible for such mass, Dursley headed for the cupboard under the, once there Dursley proved Draco's nickname of 'Troll' by grabbing the door and ripping it off the hinges.

The Troll roared again to find the cupboard empty. Then he threw his large body mass up the stairs, the house seemed to shake with every step.

Draco, his curiosity getting the better of him, followed cautiously. They reached a door, when another tortured scream came from within.

Dursley ripped open the door and pushed his way in, Draco followed. What he saw would never be erased from his memory. It was the memory that changed the way Draco Malfoy viewed Harry Potter.

There in front of him was Harry Potter, writhing on the small bed, his body arched and pain evident in his face. The boy was in tattered clothes, far to large for him, his inky hair was mattered and wet.

Harry screamed again, pushing The Troll into motion. He moved forward and grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him up, Draco heard a sick popping sound as Harry's shoulder was dislocated, causing the boy to scream even more.

It was then that Draco saw Harry's face, bruised and speaking of weeks of abuse, it was then that Draco realise that the rumours were true. Harry Potter was not a god among muggles, but a boy suffering from years of abuse, much like Draco himself.

All of a sudden this boy wasn't Harry Potter The-Boy-who-lived, but simply Harry.

Cliffy …sorry. And thankyou to all the lovely people who reviewed.

Greeneyes Lightningchick15 

**k-cat**: of course he will.

**MyGildedCage**

**animegurl088 **

**-little oro-**

and **Volume**

umm keep reviewing Please.


	3. the Taken

**Back again for Chapter 3…yay. Sorry its late, I went to the middle of nowhere for a holiday…no electricity.**

**Disclaimer…I do Not in any way own Harry Potter. If I did, Ginny would be very Dead! And Harry and Draco would be married.**

Chapter 3: The Taken 

Draco watched, horrified, as Dursley raised a clenched fist and brought it down across the screaming boy's face.

"Stop it Dursley!" Draco shouted, "What do you think you are doing?" he was more then a little shocked at his own out burst.

"He deserves it, lousy wretch; make a fool out of me will you?" Dursley's face was bloated and red, rage poured out of his very being, as he struck the now unconscious boy once more.

Draco had had enough. He could no longer stand to see such abuse being doled out in front of him, even if it was to Harry Potter, the Boy Wonder, and Hero of the bloody Wizarding world!

Draco withdrew his wand from his jacket's large pockets without too much of a struggle.

"Put him down Dursley!" Draco shouted, his wand at the ready and pointed straight at the over grown tub of lard.

Dursley's eyes flitted from Potter to Draco, back to Potter and then finally rested on Draco's wand, which was pointing straight at his crotch.

"You…You…You're one of _them_...you're…a…a" Dursley sputtered, his face seemed to pass red and moved to purple, "You're a Freak."

"Excuse _me_?" Draco screeched, not that he'd admit it, His angry eyes changed to outraged. "How dare you."

Draco raised his wand "Expelliamus!" he yelled.

Dursley was lifted away from Potter with a sudden jerk and was thrown across the room, landing, with a crash, into a bookshelf packed with muggle odds and ends and falling unconscious.

Draco huffed with disgust and turned to the broken, mostly unconscious boy whimpering on the bed. He was about to move, when there was an ear piercing screech coming from the doorway behind him. Draco rolled his eyes and turned toward the noise.

Standing at the door was Dursley's horse-faced wife dressed in a high-necked, white, cotton nightgown and an expression of horror spread across her face. Behind her was her overgrown mammoth of a son, clutching her shoulders timidly.

"What have you done? What have you _done _to my _husband_?" with each word she uttered the volume got steadily louder, until she sounded just like the banshee Draco had heard once.

"Me?" he asked in his best 'I-am-so-innocent-yet-sooo-not' voice as he waved his wand in front of the two, now 'piss in their pants', terrified muggles.

"You…you're one of _them_ aren't you?" the horse-like woman asked, terror seemed to ooze out of her very being.

Draco chose to ignore her and turned back to Potter, talking as he did.

"Do you know who he is?" he asked while moving over to the bed. Leaning over slightly he brushed a sweat slicked lock of ebony hair away from his forehead, baring the brutal curse scar, it looked horribly red and infected, especially in comparison to his creamy white skin. He turned back to the muggles.

"Do you have _any_ idea what would happen to you if the Wizarding World should find out what you've been doing to him, how you've been treating him?" Draco's icy blue eyes narrowed before turning back to Potter.

"Tell no one I've come, tell no one I've taken him or I'll come back." Draco's eyes rested on the muggles again, their icy blue depths promised disaster, "You don't want me to come back."

That said Draco wrapped Potter's tatty blanket around his whimpering form and gathered the thin boy into his arms.

Now had Draco been slightly _less_ intoxicated as he was, he might have wondered what the hell he, Draco Malfoy, was doing rescuing Harry Potter, the Boy-Bloody-Wonder, and his _persona_l worst enemy. However, as it stood, he wasn't able to think quite that clearly; it hurt too much. Had he been able to, he might have asked himself 'why the hell did he have Harry Sodding Potter nestled against his chest like a bloody baby, when he was a person that Draco hated with every single bone in his, amazingly gorgeous, very pure-blooded, anti-Dumbledore and Boy-Who-Lived, body! But the only answer his middled mind came up with was 'Who knows, who cares, but it sure feels nice.'

Stupid Brain.

Draco turned to the end of the bed, manoeuvred the smaller boy's body slightly, so he could use his wand. He pointed it at the locked trunk and muttered a couple spells. Instantly the trunk shrank and levitated into Draco's pant pocket.

"You can't do that." The woman screeched, "You're still in school aren't you? So you can't use magic?"

Draco snorted, "One, I'm a Malfoy and we can do whatever we want, and two," he glared at the woman, still standing with her son at the bedroom door; Draco had thought that they had left. "Two, I'm seventeen you stupid muggle. At seventeen you're allowed to do magic outside of school."

Draco then swept passed them, with Potter curled against his chest like a lost kitten, trumped down the stairs with loud thuds and then out of the filthy muggle house.

Once outside Draco was at a loss as to what to do. He shifted Potter again; no matter how skinny the boy was he was beginning to get heavy and walked out to the curb.

Draco could remember, from years ago, his father ranting about the poor public transport in the Wizarding World, he hadn't really being paying attention but he vaguely recalled that a magic signal of some sort called a bus…or something like that.

Frowning, Draco chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, he raised his wand to the sky and prayed to whatever deity that deigned to listen, for some sort of transport to arrive.

It didn't take long, less than a minute really, before a large, glaringly purple (it was an offence to Draco's stylish nature), triple-decker bus with the words 'Knight Bus' written in gold across the side appeared in front of him and a now completely unconscious Harry Potter. The bright purple doors opened and a young man, around 22, stepped from the bus. His clothes were ratty and his face had the worst case of 'ugly' Draco had seen for quite some time, not to even mention the guy's acne and B.O.

"'Lo my name is Stan Shunpike 'n oi'm da c'nducta of da Knight Bus, 'mergency transport for 'ny witch or Wizard in distress."

Draco blinked in an 'owlish' manner, trying to process what the man had just said.

"Well, what chyou lookin' at, we aint got all night ya know, lots a people ta drop of ya know, can't keep da bus waitin'" Stan barked, his rough cockney accent grating on Draco's upper class and cultured nerves.

Getting on the bus, Draco turned to the conductor, "Um, I'm afraid I only have muggle money on me."

"Tha's fine. Wit' chyou an' ya friend, depending where ya goin' o' corse, it should come ta 'bout," Stan paused, pondering for a minute, "ten quid. So where ya goin' Laddy-boy?"

Draco cringed, 'Laddie-boy?', then he had to think, where did he want to go? The manor was out, too many people watching, both Dumbledore's people and those death eaters, maybe his mother war right to be paranoid.

"Where am I going?" he asked out loud.

"Yes. Where! I can't tell Ernie ta go 'till we knows where it is you be needin' ta go, now can I?" Stan the conductor said impatiently, pointing to the aged driver at the front of the bus.

Draco put Potter on the nearest bed, freeing up his now very sore arms, and turned back to the conductor, gnawing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. The Cottage would probably be the better option. It was away from the Wizarding World, away from prying eyes and most importantly away from Dumbledore and Voldemort and anything else that might prevent Potter's healing. Not to mention Draco owned The Cottage out right, thanks to old Grandmother Malfoy's will. Thank the Gods the Old Bat died. Once at The Cottage, Draco could figure out what the hell he could do.

"I'd like to go the Clear Water Cottage, in Roehaven and near the muggle town of Glenhuntly. The coordinates are 67A, 34C on the 'Standard Wizard's Map'" Draco stated.

"Right," said Stan, "Ten quid should cover it." He held out his hand.

Draco reached into his slacks' pockets and pulled out a Dragon hide wallet and ruffled through it. He pulled out a couple notes; he assumed it was at least close to what Stan wanted. When Stan nodded Draco knew he had guessed correctly.

"Right, Ya 'eard da boy Ern." Stan shouted, and the bus took off.

The speed of the take off caused Draco to collide into the nearest bed and fall straight on top of Potter.

"Ya might as well stay there boy-o," Stan told him, "Even wit da Knight Bus, we's got a long way ta goes ta-night an you're last on de list."

Draco nodded, and the yawned loudly, rolled to lie beside Potter. As he drifted to sleep he was mildly aware of the intense summer heat giving way to the relief of a loud summer storm and then he knew no more.

"Oi…Oi…Oi laddie, Wake up boy." That grating tone of the cockney accent, Draco decided, was not an optimal way to wake up. Especially considering that painful throb that crashed within his head like a dragon on a rampage.

Groaning softly, he opened his eyes and then blinked to bring the world into focus however he instantly wished he hadn't, as the first thing he saw was an amazingly ugly and horrendously pimply face.

Draco groaned again then rolled over and bumped straight into Potter's prone form. His remnant sleep instantly cleared as he remembered his actions from the past few hours.

"Uhgg…What time is it?" he asked, his voice was slurred and any action he made caused his head to explode into shattering pain.

"Jus' comin' ta sun up." Stan replied, as if that answered all Draco's questions.

Letting out a steadying breath, he slowly sat up.

"Looks like ya 'ad a hell o' 'n night boy-o" Stan chuckled.

Draco grunted in a non-pure-blooded fashion.

"Would ya like a pepper-up potion lad?" called the old man from the drivers seat.

Shaking his head, the immediately regretting it, Draco raised his wand to his head, "Sobiratus" he muttered and his head cleared as the magic made its way through Draco's body.

So with a newly cleared and mostly painless head, he removed himself from the Knight Bus bed and then reached down and lifted the thin, frail body of Harry Potter into his arms.

"Thank you." Draco said graciously as he stepped down from the bus and into the soft dawn creating twilight like effect.

The moment his feet touched the ground the garishly purple triple-decker bus was gone.

Turning to face the east, he walked to the empty place where he knew the wards began that hid the Clear Water Cottage from sight, magic traces and the like.

He gently laid Potter on the ground and then turned to the wards. He tapped his wand on the ward in front of him and said "Draco Lucus Malfoy" in a clear voice. As he did so the wards opened and gave a clear view of a double story weatherboard cottage. It creamy white with large windows and a thatched roof, with so many weatherproof charms attached it was funny. Old Bat Malfoy hated the rain. Growing from the roof were draping vines that fell down the sides of the cottage creating a sort of wild effect.

The gardens were amazing, the had the 'out of control, wild' look and roses of all colours grew everywhere, amongst the roses were all manner of other flowers, some with magical properties and some without, littered throughout the front garden were small shaded pergolas stood, with creepers grew with abandon. The cottage got its name 'Clear Water' from the small river that ran through the land and the gardens were influenced by this, as could be seen by the beautiful water features and small creeks that were created for the front garden. Truly The Cottage was a sight for sore eyes. Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped through the wards. He had walked but a few steps when he whirled opened the wards again, stepped out, gathered Potter in his arms and then went back through the wards, cursing his idiocy.

He walked through the sweet smelling garden by way of a gravel path and then entered the little cottage. Well little by his standards anyway.

He would catch a couple hours sleep, decided Draco, and then he could figure out what the hell he was going to do about Potter. He climbed the stairs slowly, and then entered one of the guest rooms, placed Potter on the large bed situated in the centre of the room and then fell down next to the dark haired boy, Yes he would figure it all out later was his last thought as he closed his eyes and fell asleep, breathing in that musky sweet scent of the body next to him.

…To be continued.

** Well? What did you think? Was it ok? Long enough?**

**Okay. Now for the Authors Note. …And a bit of a plead.**

**Umm I loved all of your reviews and will love even more. You're all fantastic.**

**One reviewer picked up on a couple of problems with my previous chapters; I hope I have corrected them. Same said reviewer picked up a few problems with the plot, like Dursley giving Draco beer and not wine and the fact that Draco was at the Dursley's at the first place. Now first I'd like to say that this story is not meant to be taken seriously. While I love angst and a deep plotline as much as anyone, I didn't particularly want to write that…deep plots mean I have to think…and sometimes that hurts. so while there is a reason for Draco going to the Dursley's it's not really very good or even well thought out. In fact it's quite dumb. See Draco was going in his Father's place…and why would Lucius want to go to the Dursley's? That's right to Get to Harry. So Harry was kind of right in Chap 2**

**However Draco didn't not know this plan, he went simply to settle his dear Dad's muggle business stuff. So he had no idea. see dumb.**

**As to why Dursley gave him beer…well I figure Draco would know what wine is, 'cos he's classy, but he's have no idea what beer is, other then Butter beer which is non-alcoholic. **

**This really is a story of convenience, if I think something should happen to further the story…like Harry's clothes disappearing from his body to get Draco to jump him then bye bye clothes. heh heh I just imagined that…hmm maybe that should happen?**

**So thanks to: White Phoenix Bandit, sbkar-for picking up my mistakes, minidragon, Kat1132, k-cat-glad you don't mind, plotbunnybrat-glad you liked it enough to review, oliversangel-don't cry, it's not that sad ; I've fixed the other chaps so its not that hard to see the POV changes(hope it works), lightningchick, Silver Vampire of the Shadows, DestinyEntwinements-that answer your question, DarkEnchantor-new chap and I'm not stopping, volume and finally –X-Nefertiri-X- I love you all.**

**Now for my plead…I'm in need of a beta can anyone help?**

**Love Sanie.**

**Please Review, sorry 'bout the long AN **


	4. the Awakening

**AN: sorry about the long wait for Chapter four. I've only just got my PC back from its doctor and I am posting this post haste. It hasn't been checked over properly yet. So all the mistakes I'm apologising for in advance.**

**Anyway… on with chapter 4:**

**Awakening.**

The room was a perfect creamy white with skirtings of a deep, calming blue. It was a large, warm, gentle and soft room that was designed to give a home-like feel no doubt.

Positioned in the centre and pushed to the wall was a large, polished mahogany, king-sized bed. Its tall, ornately carved posts, with poles stretching between the tops of each, so curtains could be hung, if desired, almost reached the white plaster ceiling. Hung from said ceiling and falling to the outside of the poles, was a silky white fly-curtain that gave the bed a real 'fairy tale' feel. The bed's equally ornate headboard, resting against the wall added to this feeling. Directly opposite the bed, against the other wall, was an old, polished mahogany, vanity with a large, gold trimmed, mirror and a small mass of small, ornate, containers filled with make-up and perfumes as well as brushes, combs, other miscellaneous objects and some handheld mirrors made of silver and gold. To the vanities right was a creamy white door with blue trimmings; this led to a large en suite and wardrobe. To the left of the large bed was a heavy, deep mahogany, door that led to the main upstairs corridor and to the right was large glass sliding doors that led to a small balcony. There on the balcony was a small table and two chairs and had miniature rose creepers, with buds of pink and white, wrapped around the white painted, iron railing.

This, however, was not visible due to the thick, heavy, deep blue curtains that, presently, were only letting in a small stream of light in through a crack where the velvety curtains met. This light was all that was needed to wake one tired, pained, and lightly sleeping Harry Potter, small compared the large bed that seemed to engulf him. Well that and the increasing heat from thick, heavy blankets draped over his sore and battered body.

Blearily Harry opened his eyes, his mind, that had shut down some time around midnight, rebooted as his eyes acknowledged the fact that he was no longer in Dudley's small, second bedroom, lying atop that tiny, hard, moth-eaten bed with one cotton blanket and no pillows. No, now he was in a large, comfy, soft, almost unbearably hot bed with large white and blue pillows that were cushioning his head gently. Obviously he had died. This must be heaven.

'Or Hell' Harry thought.

He quickly sat up and instantly regretted doing so, as sharp, stabbing pain ran through his chest. Face and general 'body' area. He would be lucky if a couple of broken ribs were all the damages he had.

He gently patted the bed down, in search of his glasses; gnawing violently on his bottom lip, for both pain and in concentration while he tried to figure out how he had ended up, well, wherever here was.

Finally giving up on his hunt for his glasses, he leaned back against the pillows. 'Last night? What happened last night?' he pondered silently.

'I remember being in the cupboard, _I think, _but why am I in this much pain? Where are my glasses? And _where the hell am I?_' He was still wondering about these things, when exhaustion overcame him, and his wounded body demanded rest, causing eyelids to fall and sleep to take him.

Meanwhile, Draco was downstairs in the large kitchen, pondering a much different dilemma, well _dilemmas _really.

The first dilemma was about what one was supposed to do, when one has virtually kidnapped the world's biggest hero and not to mention, one's father's Master's Biggest enemy all rolled into err…one. Draco didn't have an answer to that yet.

The second and most predominate dilemma for Draco at the moment was: How does one go about making lunch? The kitchen was fully stocked and the food had non-perishable charms all over it. The stove was working, the cooler was functional. So, what else did one need to do?

Draco was at more then a loss. Beside him, barely reaching his knees was a small, amazingly ugly, green-y-grey house-elf, wrapped up in an old brown pillowcase with a long faded floral pattern just visible. It was banging its head against the cupboard doors, stationed under the sink bench.

"Missy is sorry Master Malfoy!" the elf screeched between bangs, "Missy is being sooo sorry Master, and is beggin' the Master's forgivin'ness! Missy is bein' so sorry for not be knowin' how to cook sir. But Missy in bein' a gardener-elf yer sees. A gardener an' a cleaner Master Sir." It wailed mournfully.

Draco scowled down at the distasteful thing. "Well what good are you then?" he growled, "What's the point of having a house-elf if it doesn't know how to cook. I should give you clothes and be done with you"

The creature wailed again, tears dripped from its eyes. "Oh no Master please, please don't be doin' that Sir, Missy is a good gardener Sir, she is tryin' very hard Sir. But Cober an' Teery are not bein' 'ere Sir. They bein' dead since jus' afta madam die." Missy sniffed loudly and blew her nose with her pillowcase, then went back to banging her head against the doors.

"Stop that!" Draco growled in annoyance, and then sighed.

"Go outside and do your work, I don't want to see you unless I call for you. Understood?"

"Oh, Oh yes Master, very understood Master!" exclaimed the elf happily, and then disappeared with a click of her gnarled fingers

Draco rolled his eyes then turned his attention back to the kitchen, and his dilemma. '_How the hell was he going to eat_?' He surveyed the kitchen slowly; in front of him was a creamy white bench and stainless steel sink, above the bench was a long window that gave a pretty view of the right-side garden; filled with a classic cottage garden, including a small pond with lilies growing on top of the water and a small waterfall running into said pond, from one of the many small brooks that littered the garden. Surrounding the pond, a giving shade to much of the side garden, were giant willow trees. Their braches curved down to the pond and ground. Under the trees were small settees; it was a very romantic garden really. Not that Draco cared.

Inside again, Draco turned his attention back to the kitchen, it was moderately sized and the blue and cream colour theme of the rest of the house had been completely disregarded. Obviously Old Bat Malfoy hadn't spent much time in this room because, in his opinion, it was hideous. The bench tops were a cream, which was fine, but the tiles that lined the walls were a gross off white, more yellow, with small pink flower patterns bordering them. The stove an ancient burnt black, pathetic old thing and the noises it made were creepy. Underneath the benches were a row of cupboards that held who knows what, keeping said things hidden was the ugliest doors Draco had ever seen. They were a disgusting Rose Pink, with a darker version of the tile's flower pattern plastered across them. Truly an atrocity! Well to Draco's point of view at least. Most normal people would describe it as cute. The kitchen was open and airy. One of the bench tops divided the kitchen from the informal dining area, the walls were an off white, probably from age, and the oak floorboards were polished to a glossy shine. Over on the far wall was a mahogany cupboard, with glass doors, that held the china plates and what not.

On the walls were paintings of gardens and mountains and other scenic things, many of the paintings had bird flying through them, or deer frolicking passed. On the same wall as the window, were large sliding doors that led to the patio and out to the garden. It was all very quaint. But that didn't help Draco!

Draco frowned in concentration. How does on cook? Swiftly he spun to exit the kitchen. He needed his cauldron! Everyone knew you couldn't cook without it!  
+

When Harry next awoke it was to a smell so foul, he thought he'd choke. Sitting up carefully, he turned to the bedside table closest to him, and was surprised to see that he could…well see, his glasses were back.

On the table was a silver trey, with a bowl and glass of water placed upon it. It was what was in the bowl that gave the stench of death warmed over. The substance is what one might call soup, if one were _blind,_ that is. It seemed to be of sludge consistency and was pale grey in colour. The small chunks of whatever they were, were also a grey, only darker. Harry had to wonder what kind of person would rescue him only to poison him. He didn't have to wonder long.

Draco bit his lip as exited Potter's room silently. The boy has seemed so small and fragile lying in that giant bed. His face had been bruised and battered and his body, no doubt had been the same, only his body had been hidden by ratty-tatty clothes that had been, by the look of them, blood soaked many times. Once Potter was up, Draco would have to order that useless elf to wash the bedding thoroughly not to mention incinerate Potter's clothes and get the boy to have a good long shower, he boy stank.

Draco turned and entered his own room, it was opposite Potter's, and sat himself at his desk. He glared warily at his soup-like creation he had placed on the desk earlier; Draco couldn't attest to the deadness of the meat and truthfully the soup was probably poisonous. Maybe Potter would do him a favour and kill himself with the concoction. That would save Draco a lot of trouble.

With a grimace of disgust he pushed the bowl away and pulled out a bit of parchment out of a draw. He may as well get started on his home work, after all there were only four weeks left of holidays, he needed to get cracking.

/\\\\

Harry's stomach growled in discontent, as he glared at the pretty china bowl containing the mixture of death, what the hell was he going to eat? He'd already gone two days without food, and it looked like he'd have to wait even longer before he got anything eatable. He scowled in annoyance, he was positive his ribs were broken and while he could block most of the pain on a good day, today didn't happen to be one of those days, the pain he was in was excruciating and hunger only made it worse.

He sighed softly and laid back into the pillows, it hurt less that way, the pain and hunger only made him tired. He would have to wait for his rescuer, or captor to come and wake him, because Merlin knew, he wasn't going anywhere.

It was at that very moment that Harry was overwhelmed by a vision, his back arched and pain wracked his already broken body, his screams were ripped from his throat as he was pulled into the blackness and a small dark room filled with the stench a suffering and death. Harry was vaguely aware, before the vision took him completely, of two strong arms pulling him into a calming embrace.

\\\\/

Draco frowned, gnawing on his lower lip; his transfigurations ethics essay was giving his jumbled mind too many things to think about. He sighed in disgust at his poor attention span and pushed the parchment away.

He rose from his chair and was about to move to his bed, when a tortured scream broke the still of the cottage. Quickly Draco dashed from his room and into Potter's.

Potter's body was arched off the bed and his pain was obvious. His scream lessened to give way for pleads of 'please don't' and 'stop please!' and other such words along that general theme.

Draco realised, while watching the thrashing boy, that Potter was experiencing the cruicatus, over and over again.

Throwing aside his shock, Draco ran to Potter's side and gently drew him into his arms and murmured soothing words into his scruffy black hair in an attempt to calm the boy.

>>>>>>>>

_The room was dark and dank; the smell was of pain and death warmed over. He stood in the centre, surrounded by his minions, all as ominous and dark, as he was himself. He knew that evil seemed to drip from his very being, out of every pore. He loved it. Embraced it; this feeling of power; of absolute control of his world._

"_Bring them forth." He called to his darkly clad servants._

_Two hooded men dragged a woman and young girl to him; fear was evident on their faces._

"_You thought you could escape, didn't you?" He growled, his eyes seemed to glow._

_The woman was shaking; tears ran down her cheeks unchecked. "No please we-"_

"_Crucio" the woman jerked and her nerve endings, erupting in intense pain, her screams echoed loudly._

"_No!" shouted the young girl, "Please don't hurt her! We didn't know! Honest! We had no idea Daddy betrayed you, please." The child wouldn't be a day over eleven, and her pleas were that of a child begging for her mother's life. She didn't know yet, how fruitless her pleas were, or how much he enjoyed them. But she will._

_>>>>> _

"Ahhhhhh!"

That scream of devastation would haunt Draco for the rest of his life. There were no words to describe the pain and horror that filled the boy that he cradled so gently. Draco could only imagine what the boy was seeing,

Draco was sitting on the large, cushy, blue and white bed that Potter was occupying. He was resting against the headboard. Potter, pulled against his chest. Every now and then, between the screams, Draco would dab at the now inflamed scar on the other boy's forehead, with a damp cloth and whisper comforting things in the boy's ears.

Draco remembered back in fifth year, Potter had been said to have, had visions of the Dark Lord and the atrocious things he did. Draco hadn't believed him. He did now. How could he not?

Draco didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, (long enough to have caused his leg to have locked.) but eventually Potter's screams stopped and the boy fell into a fitful sleep. Draco didn't move, he still held Potter comfortably to his chest, still whispered soft things into the dark haired boy's hair. He did this until his own eyelid's felt heavy and then they fell.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, still half asleep he barely registered the fact that his lovely warm pillow, that he was currently snuggling into, groaned softly, as Harry squirmed to get comfortable.

Draco awoke to a warm body atop of him. A warm body that was nestled snugly between his legs. A warm body that belonged to one Harry Potter. Draco could only think two things.

'Shit.' And 'shit that feels nice'

But mainly he thought 'SHIT'

Draco looked down at the currently snuggling Harry Potter; the boy really was quite attractive, if you took away the glasses, washed of the dirt and gave him nice clothes. Yes he really was very good looking.

Harry moaned, he didn't want to wake up. Waking up just meant he would have to deal with the reality of what he had just seen, but no one enjoyed witnessing death, so sleep really was preferable. The only thing was, was that his bed was quite hard, especially that bulge digging into his stomach. He opened his eyes and looked up, right into the silver eyes of his archenemy, Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" he asked, too stunned to do much else.

"Hello Potter." Malfoy said, with a small smile that changed his features, which Harry had always considered too sharp, into something angelic.

Harry decided that this awkward moment was a good time to pass out; only fate was never so kind.

To Be Continued…

**AN: another 'cliffy' sorry 'bout that. Umm so yeah. **

**Oh many 'thankyous' to you lovely people who reviewed. You know who you are. I am soooo sorry for your long wait. My computer power supply died and so it need the doctor…the doctor needed a part….the part took forever to come in…stupid postage service. I also apologise for my bad attempt at writing the 'English Accent' I'm Aussie by birth, and really have no idea. ; I'm also blonde, so what does that tell you?**

**Oh BTW here's a small plug for myself…Go and read BELOVED… I wrote it while waiting for my beautiful PC and typed it up at a friends place. It is just a short, relatively sad one-shot… a H/D fic of course. And hey it made me cry.**

**So any way….love ya all…. I'll update soon. Cross my heart.**

**PS: to the reviewer who asked; Harry's scar opens 'cos it's dramatic and it adds to the 'oww' look. and for no other reason then that**


	5. The Enlightened

**Hi sorry for the late update, i only just finished it off so there may be 'issues' with the gramma. ;  
Anyway, Harry Potter and Crew are Not mine, not that i really need to tell you that right? soo On with the show:**

**The Enlightened**

Harry squeezed his eyes shut tightly, waiting for that moment for that blessed darkness to take him, each second he remained conscious was a second too long by his reckoning.

Draco just watched the panicking hero, coolly. Beneath that mask, Draco's mind whirled; he needed to think of something really suave and witty to say. He needed to control the situation. He needed to make an impression!

"Potter, do you mind moving, you're squashing my dick." Was the common trash that spewed forth out of his cultured mouth.

'Great,' Draco thought, 'Seventeen years of the best upbringing know to Wizarding kind, and that _drivel_ was the best I can come up with?'

Watching Potter react, however, made the crude statement _almost_ worthwhile. The boy's grubby face shone red and he quickly scrambled away from Draco's crotch and in doing so landed himself on the other side of the giant bed. Embarrassment looked good on him.

Harry stared in shock; he remembered what had happened at the Dursley's place, vaguely. He remembered hearing Malfoy's voice and trying to get his trunk open in order to get his wand. He remembered the pain from his ribs, being so intense that he barely made it to the bed, before passing out. He vaguely remembered a vision, a strong voice telling those muggles where to shove it and some where in the depths of his unconscious mind he remembered warm arms, lifting him up and taking him from that hellhole the Dursley's called home.

Wrapping an arm around his aching ribs, Harry studied Malfoy intently; the other boy was slightly rumpled, probably from being slept on. His, usually immaculate, hair framed his face gently, it was longer then Harry remembered it to be, almost long enough to tie back and it had curled at the ends, Harry was amused to think Malfoy had curls. His light white cotton shirt, which would normally have a billowiness look to them, lay flat and wrinkled and his pant's, though black, also had a distinct 'slept in' look. Still Harry had to admit that Malfoy looked damn good, not that Harry looked at boys or anything like that.

Clearing his throat Harry thought it time to address the major issue at hand, and said in a voice that shook only a little, "Malfoy, what am I doing here? And for that matter, where the _Hell_ is _here_? And as while on the Where and Why subject, What the hell was that substance you gave me, you know, that foul grey stuff?"

Draco sputtered for a moment, "I'll have you know Potter, that I put a lot of effort into that soup!" he yelled, his face bright with anger. _How dare he question him after all he's done?_

"You call that soup?" Potter screamed back, leaning forward to emphasise his anger. As he did, he wrapped other arm around his ribs and crippled over, in obvious pain. "Shit," Potter muttered fiercely, under his breath, "shit, shit, shit!"

Draco crawled across the bed and wrapped an arm around Potter's shoulders. The other boy stiffened and looked up, his over bright, deep green eyes glared though thick, dirty, cracked and amazingly ugly glasses. They were another thing that dumb elf can burn for him.

"Why are you touching me Malfoy?" Potter asked belligerently.

Draco figured that the only way to avoid answering that question was to ignore it completely. "I think you have internal damage Potter, I'll go and get some potions out of the cellar, just wait here alright." He said while gently patting Potter on the back.

Swiftly he clambered off the bed and made his way to the door, when he got there he turned to a very confounded Potter. "Don't worry, I'll fix you up in no time." he said with a smile and then he looked serious, "you don't have to go back Potter, you can heal here." Draco snorted, " Hell this place has more concealment charms then Hogwarts." And with that he turned and left the room. Leaving Harry to stunned to do anything more then fall into the soft bed and wonder what the hell had happened to Draco Malfoy.

Draco was thinking much the same thing as he almost fell down the stairs that led to the dark and dusty cellar. What the _hell _had possessed him to _reassure _Potter? He had actually been _nice_ to the other boy!

"Ahhh!" Draco shouted as he shook his head in frustration. _What had he been thinking?_

"Illuminus" he muttered and the dark cellar was infused with light. To one side of the dirty room was a large wine rack, boasting some of the oldest and most expensive wines and spirits left in England. Filling the rest of the room were shelves upon shelves of potions and remedies to cure any ail.

Draco clambered over boxes and old rusty cauldrons till he reached the shelves he wanted, he chose four small bottles form the selection and then climbed out of the cellar all the while cursing stupid Gryffindors and their contagious goodwill or maybe he'd spent too long around Hufflepuffs.

Back in front of Potter's room Draco gnawed on his bottom lip, He juggled the potions in his hands and the clothes slung over his arm and opened the heavy hard wood door with a little difficulty.

Potter was lying on the bed; eyes closed and breathing shallowly, Draco could hear Potter's breath rattling around in his chest from where he stood on the other side of the room.

"Come on Potter, wake up!" Draco said loudly, banging the door. Potter nearly jumped of the bed.

"Good your up." Draco continued, ignoring the dark glare he was receiving from the inky haired boy. He ambled over to the bed and dumped his armload down on to the soft covers.

"Take this," Draco threw a light blue phial at Potter who only just caught it. He looked at it warily and Draco could practically hear the boy's thoughts. "It's not poison Potter, It's a healing potion, helps with internal bleeding and broken bones." He then tossed two more phials, pink and green respectively at the battered boy in the bed. "The pink one is for concussion and head injuries, that uncle of yours gave your head a sound beating, no wonder you're so hard headed." Draco tried to joke with lofty tones, judging from Potter's open-mouthed stare it wasn't working.

"And," he continued hastily, "the Green one's a muscle replenisher, you look like skin and bones."

"What's the other one for?" Potter asked, gesturing to the light purple phial still in his hand.

"That's for _my_ headache." Draco drawled and then uncorked the thin phial and gulped down the potion with barely a grimace. He then shoved the clothes over to Potter. "Once the potions start to work I want you to have a bath in the ensuite behind me." He pointed to the door, " I then want you to put on these clothes, what your wearing isn't fit for a house elf let alone Harry Potter: Saviour of the Wizarding World."

"I'm no saviour." Potter muttered.

"I'll say, I've never seen a more pathetic wizard in my life, letting those muggles do that! What were you thinking? You have magic you idiot, and even if you didn't, you have legs, you could have ran away!"

Potter looked shocked for a moment, then fury clouded his features, "WHAT? What gives you the right! What do you know about me Malfoy, huh? Think you saw the True Harry Potter? Think you have the right to tell Me about what I can and can't do? Don't you know…" tears had started now, "Don't you know that even if I could find a way to escape the Dursley's that I have two lots of people watching me. One's out to see me dead and the other think that keeping me at that Hell-hole in Surrey was a way to protect me, only the Dursley's would like me dead as well." Potter was sobbing now, jeez PMSing much?

"What are you talking about Potter, if escaping was so hard for you, why the hell was it so easy getting you out?" Draco pointed out softly, "But that doesn't matter at the moment, what matters, is you taking the potions and then having a bath or something, because you reek to the high hills."

Harry shook his head in a bemused fashion, surely this wasn't Malfoy. It couldn't be. The Malfoy he knew would never ever act like this.

"So wait, why did you take me away?" Harry questioned. Malfoy groaned, "I told you it doesn't matter. Take your damn potions and then get washed up." He growled.

Harry did as instructed and gulped down the foul potions as fast as possible but he couldn't contain the grimace that followed each potion.

"Amateur." Malfoy said disdainfully once all phials were empty.

"No, I've had to have many potions in my time Malfoy. The difference is, is that I still have taste, unlike your good self." Harry grinned; he was already feeling the potions effects.

"I beg your pardon?" Malfoy screeched in outrage. "I'll have you know that I have impeccable taste you ungrateful, uncouth, unrefined lout!"

Malfoy flicked a stay lock of hair from his eyes and flounced out of the room muttering loudly about Gryffindor's and lack of manners. Harry payed it no mind as he felt his ribs move back into place and mend themselves. Not the most comfortable thing in the world. Not by any stretch.

The potions took approximately twenty minutes to work well enough that Harry felt well enough to get out of the bed and make his way to the bathroom.

It wasn't a big bathroom compared to some of the ones they had at Hogwarts however it was still a reasonable size and had more then enough room for a separate area for the lavatory. It had tiled walls; white boarded with blue. On the centre of every wall was a mosaic of some magical water creature. Over to the far right was a large spa bath and to his direct right a shower area. Immediately in front of him was a large, long mirror and below it was the vanity and basin. On the left was the sectioned of toilet and a double door wardrobe.

Harry opened the wardrobe and withdrew a big fluffy creamy white towel, hung it over the rack at the back of the door, removed his tattered clothed and then stepped in to the shower recess. The water that came out of the muggle-like shower head was magiked to be exactly the right temperature and Harry couldn't help but sigh over the fantastic feeling being clean and warm brought to his body. Truly perfect.

Draco stormed out of Potter's room in a tizz. That disgusting lout, that lousy unappreciative bastard! Call him tasteless would he? How dare he! That…that…that no good, low down good-for-nothing Gryffindor arse!

Draco slammed into his own room, nearly taking the door out as he did so, anger radiated from his core and steam seemed to come out of his ears. See if he'd ever be nice to Gryffindor heathens again…see if he'd ever be nice to Harry Potter again.

"Missy, you no good, hideous House-elf, get your nauseatingly repugnant self here now." Draco growled, clicking his fingers loudly.

In an instant, a small, grubby, absolutely revoltingly ugly house-elf stood before him. Who said Draco didn't have taste, he had taste enough to know that house-elves were just gross!

"Yes Mater Malfoy sir, what can I's be doin' for ya sir?" the house-elf asked, tugging on the bottom of her pillowcase nervously.

"Listen Elf," Draco said in annoyance, why did he have to talk to the repulsive creature? "I want you, while Potter's in the shower, to clean that room, change the bedding and burn Potter's old clothes. Think you can handle that?"

"Oh yes Master Malfoy sir, Missy can do that, Missy can do that well sir! Before ol' mistress be passin' sir, Missy used to do house 'old chores all da time sir, Mistress be sayin; I's is good at it."

"Except cooking that is."

Missy nodded sadly, "Yes, I've never been able to cook without someone endin' in 'ospital." Draco's eyes widened, "Go near the kitchen and I'll shoot you, or something equally muggle." He assured the elf, before adding, "No go, you useless waste of space."

And like that the Elf was gone.

/\\\\\\?

Missy was excited, it had been an age since anyone had stayed at the cottage, Master Malfoy had only been once to inspect the place, and he hadn't stayed long. But now he was back, and with a friend to, Missy was happy, she liked watching humans, they interested her, and she loved seeing their interactions with each other. She could remember her old mistress; she had been a young, cool beauty, a true and proper Malfoy when she had first come to the cottage, not long after her husband's death. Back then Mistress Malfoy would do nothing to step out of the place society had create, the cool and solitary widow, waiting for her own death so she could join her husband again. However she hadn't foreseen meeting and falling in love once more, to a normal muggle man who had accidentally strayed into the wards, which were later strengthened so the cottage couldn't be accessed by anyone other then the Mistress and anyone else of her choosing. They had stayed together for a great many years, never leaving, never being anything but together. But then the Muggle Master died of age and the Mistress lost all heart. She left briefly, settled he affairs and came back to die. Both the Mistress and her Muggle are buried at the back of the garden, always together.

So Missy wondered what story she would remember for young Master Malfoy, who her Mistress found worthy, and his battered young companion. She hoped it would be a good one.

Quickly Missy raced around the room, cleaning anything that need cleaning, she then moved to the bed and whipped the covers and sheet off, retrieved another set and made the bed hurriedly. She then took the dirty bed sheets and clothes left in the bed and those discarded in the bathroom down to the laundry and dropped them all into the incinerator. Master Malfoy would be pleased.

?\\\\\?

Harry stepped out of the shower and quickly towelled himself off, he then wrapped the towel around his waist and moved into the bedroom to retrieve the clothes Malfoy had left only to find a made bed, with new covers and no clothes to be seen. He quickly scanned the room, in case the house-elf, Harry could only assume that is what caused the clean, neat and tidiness of the room, had put the clothes elsewhere. Nope, nowhere to be seen. Crap, now what can he do?

/\\\\?

Draco was in the kitchen trying to determine what he could brew for dinner when a very disgruntled, very naked bar a towel padded into the kitchen, his bare feet slipping slightly on the wooden floorboards.

Draco's heart got caught in his throat, and he revised his opinion on Potter's scrawniness. Or maybe the muscle replenishing potion works better then he had originally thought. While Potter couldn't be considered anything but too thin, Draco could see that underneath his pale skin was sinewy, lethe, seeker muscles. Muscles that Draco knew Potter had worked hard to get.

Draco couldn't help but stare at the mostly naked boy; it wasn't that Draco liked him or anything it was just that he was really nice to look at. What now that the boy was free from any disfiguring marks except for a light purplish bruise around the ribcage area.

"Like what you see Malfoy?" Potter drawled slowly, causing Draco to jump. He quickly swallowed his heart, which was preventing him from talking and said, "Don't be ridiculous Potter, I'm just checking that the potions worked, that's all." Draco's brows furrowed.

"Potter…Why aren't you waring any clothes?" he asked in a bewildered fashion.

"Well Malfoy, I got out of the shower and there were no clothes anywhere in the room."

"Oh." Draco's eyes darted to the side, "OH. That stupid House-elf, that lousy, no good, dumb, repulsive, ghastly, ugly creature!"

"I wouldn't go that far." Harry tried to calm Malfoy. "I'm sure the House-elf didn't mean it." He said, not entirely sure what it was the elf 'didn't mean.

"Missy, you good-for-nothing cretin, come here!" Malfoy ordered abruptly. Instantly the small elf appeared before him.

"Yes Master Malfoy sir?" the House-elf squeaked.

"Elf, tell me, did you do as I tell you?"

"Oh yes sir," the house-elf beamed, "I cleaned the room, redid the bed and burnt the clothes."

Malfoy's eye twitched noticeably, "Are you saying that the new clothes I left him are now burnt as well?" he asked with deceptive calm.

"Er…I supposes so Master Malfoy sir." Missy whispered, she knew this wasn't going to be pretty. She was right. Master Malfoy exploded.

"WHAT! Do have any idea how expensive those were, can you have any concept of how badly you are going to Pay!" he roared. Had he thought about it more Draco might have considered the fact that he was going to give the clothes to Potter anyway. No way would he wear them after they'd be worn by Potter. But as it was rage got the better of his cultured self and so did hid body as he kicked the whimpering elf in front of him. He only had time to do it once, because long, bare sinewy arms wrapped around him and a nearly naked body rested up against his, he immediately calmed as he inhaled Potter clean fresh scent and his hands came to rest on smooth, soft, creamy white skin. He forgot the clothes, he forgot the Elf. All he could think about was the small, shaking body in his arms. Wait a minute, shaking? Draco woke up to the world slightly and looked down at the sobbing Harry Potter whose shoulders were shuddering with each breath he took, what the hell?

"P…p…please… please…p…please," the frail boy's voice quivered as he spoke, emotion heavy in his tone. "Please stop, don't hurt her, please. I can't bare it, please Malfoy, stop, please. Stop." Potter pleaded quietly, his breath brushed against Draco's neck causing shivers to tingle up his spine.

"Why?" Draco whispered though he was unconscious of doing so.

"Because… because it's wrong, it's cruel."

"Not good enough Potter, try again."

"Because, you sound just like _him_, you shouldn't sound like _him_. You're better then _him_, remember." Potter paused, "Isn't that what you always say, that you're better then _them_, but you sounded just like _them_."

Draco stilled, had he sounded like the muggles at Potter's? Had he truly sounded enough like that awful Troll to make Potter _cry_? Surely not! He _was_ better then _them_, wasn't he?

/\\\\\?

Missy looked up at the dark haired human boy who had saved her from Master Malfoy's wrath; she could feel something akin to hero worship coming on and quickly shoved it aside. She didn't want to worship, she wanted to watch. That kind, sweet dark haired lad reminded Missy of the Mistress' partner; Maverick had been kind and smart and gallant, he never said anything cruel or unkind to anything, house-elf or no. He'd also been able to whip Mistress Malfoy's temper strait into line, if he thought she was indulging in the 'Malfoy tendencies' as she had liked to call them. And now it appeared that the inky haired lad, that obviously needed a good feed, had the same ability with the new Malfoy residing in the house. It made Missy very happy to see, very happy indeed.

TBC.

**Well, I'm sorry for the late update, but one night about two weeks ago I was attacked by an anonymous hooded person and he held me in a basement at an undisclosed location, the person didn't tell me his name, all he said is "I am Block, Writers Block."**

**I truly thought I would never escape. Ahhhh I'm so glad I could finally get free of his painful clutches. But that was when I was then attacked by a bad case of the flu Sobs So anyways. I must say I apologise for the OOC-ness of Draco, but he took hold and ran away from me…and some how Harry became a girl. ; I am however Proud of my pervy Voyeuristic House-elf……should I be ashamed? nah!**

**Ummm, about the Cruciatus….it all for dramatic effect. Just take the random things that pop up as is and don't pay to much mind to it**

**Ohhh and I told you I would make Harry's clothes disappear. Yay for nakedness.**

**Now many thanks for my reviewers, I love you all, and I always appreciate the reviews.**

**Much Love Sanie.**


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